


Fall

by OneOddKitteh



Series: Very Important Sabriel AU's [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Gabriel, Autumn, Charlie Ships It, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Law Student Sam, M/M, Panic Attacks, Photographer Charlie, Really Brief Hospitalization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOddKitteh/pseuds/OneOddKitteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel and Sam meet in the Fall, fall over, and then fall in love.<br/>Or, taken from this prompt: met while jumping into the same pile of freshly raked leaves in a park</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from this tumblr post: puppetamateur.tumblr.com/post/93292699757/okay-but-consider-these-oh-my-god-im-so-sorry-my

Exams had kinda done Sam’s head in. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days, which wasn’t too far from the truth. He didn’t even have to look in a mirror to see the bags beneath his eyes. He could feel an aching emptiness in his eyes, like his head was hollow. Sam took his time on his way home from class, laptop bag slung over one shoulder, enjoying the crisp air on his face. The park was filled with the sound of students, and dogs, and bikes, and Sam’s whistle. He wasn’t sure what he was whistling. It might not have been a song at all. It was definitely off key, but it made him happy anyway.

As he walked, Sam found himself going out of his way to stomp on every fallen leaf on the footpath. Maturity be damned, he was 23 years old and could step wherever he wanted. And he wanted to step on the leaves. Because they went _crunch_. Yeah, exams had brought Sam low. At least he wasn’t as bad as his roommate, Chuck, who’d been nearly constantly drunk for a little over two weeks.  He wasn’t even as bad as Castiel, who’d fallen asleep in the middle of an exam. That was how Sam justified his fascination with the crunch of leaves and glazed eyes. He wasn’t the worst one around.

Sam continued on meandering along the path, jumping leaf to leaf, till he saw a massive pile of leaves just off the side of the path. A blaze of orange and red, heaped underneath one of the larger trees in the park. His eyes widened, his pulse jumped. Jesus Christ, if that wasn’t the most wonderful pile of leaves he’d ever seen. The girl with the rake had just walked away, leaving Sam with a perfect opportunity. They were fresh and perfect to be jumped on.

_He shouldn’t._

He did.

Sam lengthened his steps, let his laptop bag slip off his shoulder and gently thud onto the grass as he walked. He jumped. He collided. Oh god, that was a person. It was a person, doing the exact same as Sam, and it was very, _very_ inconvenient. Sam’s feet landed on the side of an ankle, and then slipped. It wasn’t dramatic, but a sudden fall, a stomach-curdling drop straight to the ground. His ass hit the dirt hard, and the leaves made the most satisfying crunch he’d ever heard in his life. Not so satisfying was the similar sound of Sam’s wrist. For a second, his rustling as he sat up was the only sound. He tried to catch his breath, but just wheezed in pain instead. He sat up and cradled his wrist close to his chest.

“Oh _shit,_ ” were the other guy’s first words to him.

He’d fallen too, and was clutching his ankle, face twisted in an almost boyish pain. He had to be younger than Sam, by at least a year.

“Jesus fucking shit,” was Sam’s reply.

The boy tried to move, but cried out instead. The look on his face instantly made him look older, face paling quicker than should be possible. Okay, maybe not as young as Sam thought. He looked up at Sam, tears in his eyes reflecting the burning leaves around them.

“I think you broke my ankle,” he said.

He seemed frozen, as if the slightest movement would cause him agony. Sam could relate. Breathing jostled his wrist. His already bruising, suspiciously lumpy wrist.

“I think I broke my wrist,” he said.

Neither of them moved, just panted together on the ground. Seconds felt like minutes, before a bystander arrived. She had messy red hair and a camera hanging from her neck, and Sam vaguely recognized her as the one with the rake.

“Are you ok?” she asked them both, wide eyed. “That was some hit.”

“Just peachy,” the other guy said. “Mt Vesuvius here has broken my foot.”

She glanced at his ankle, wincing at whatever she saw. Sam couldn’t see it past the leaves scattered everywhere. Plus, the acidic tears in his eyes made everything blurry anyway.

“And you’ve broken your wrist,” she said to Sam. No, not to Sam, but at him. “I rake one pile of leaves and cause a pileup. That’s fantastic. Both of you stay here, I’m calling 911.”

She stood up, leaving them to sit there together. Sam didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily until the floating blotches became too big to ignore. He couldn’t see.

“Oh shit,” he said.

Sam had to calm down. He knew it. But all he’d wanted was to make the leaves go crunch. His breathing echoed in his head, skin pulled too tight over the bones of his face. Pain. He’d been so tired, and there was so much pain. If one bad thing had happened another would. He’d get his results back, and he’d fail. Chuck was going to die of alcohol poisoning or something because Sam couldn’t come home and make sure he’d gotten out of bed and eaten and wasn’t drinking straight from the tequila bottle, and Sam couldn’t _breathe._

“Hey!” the other guy said. “Hey, Sasquatch! You’re ok. It’s ok, you gotta breathe, dude.”

His hands weren’t on his ankle, but twitching in front of Sam. Finally he settled on placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder gently.

“Breathe with me,” he said slowly. “It’ll make the pain easier. Slowly, in and out. Like this.”

It wasn’t a request. His hand gripped Sam’s shoulder tight, a constant pressure keeping him steady. The deep breaths Sam heard guided his own breathing into a slower tempo. Like a conductor. Even when Sam could breathe properly, he didn’t open his eyes. His head slipped forward till his chin practically rested on his own chest. Sam could’ve fallen asleep, if only it didn’t hurt so much. He could also feel dampness seeping into the seat of his pants from the ground, which was kinda gross. He heard a small chuckle. There was more relief than amusement in the sound.

The tiny “ _thank you_ ” must have been Sam. He hadn’t felt it slip out.

“No problem, cupcake.”

 

The guy introduced himself in the ambulance. Sam had been ushered into a seat, sling already on, after the paramedics loaded Gabriel onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. The drive wasn’t hurried, seeing as the injuries were hardly life threatening. It also could have had something to do with the way the guy in the back cried out involuntarily when they first hit a bump on the road. A little while later, he called out to Sam.

“Feeling alright up there, buddy?”

Sam twisted around. It jostled his wrist a little, but the sling kept it mostly immobile. Thank god. Sam could do without more pain. He could see an orange leaf stuck in brown hair, and curious eyes straining to see him at such a strange angle.

“Just peachy,” he said with a tiny smile. “How’re you doing _down there_?”

There was a small period of quiet. Sam let his echoed phrase and height jab sink in. Finally, the guy laughed.

“That was good,” he told Sam approvingly. “Do you have a name, Mr. Funny-man?”

Sam smirked.

“You mean other than a poorly constructed height joke?” he said. “It’s Sam. And yours?”

He startled another laugh out the guy, then a response.

“Gabriel. My name is Gabriel.”

 

They ended up in hospital beds side by side overnight. The x-rays would take a while to process, and the breaks were bad enough that neither of them were allowed out. Sam arrived earlier, and was channel surfing when Gabriel was finally carted into the room. His leg was elevated immediately. When the nurses finally left him alone, Gabriel slumped back onto his bed with a tired sigh. He held a hand out to Sam silently. Years of living with his dad had prepared Sam for such a moment. He passed the remote over, and watched while Gabriel scanned the channels. He finally settled on an awfully familiar show. Sam groaned loudly.

“Fucking doctor sexy,” he muttered.

Gabriel’s lips twitched at the corners.

“You broke my foot, I get to choose what we watch,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you were in the way!” Sam protested half-heartedly.

“Ever heard of looking where you’re going?”

Sam really couldn’t find a reasonable excuse.

“I was a little focused on the leaves,” he said finally.

Gabriel snorted at him.

“Yeah, you and me both,” he said. “Now you get an extra hour in exams, and I’ll be late passing in my final piece, because no way am I climbing scaffolding with a cast, painting be damned.”

Sam turned to look at Gabriel properly. He was an artist? And ok, he hadn’t seen it before, but Gabriel was still wearing his own shirt. Plain, grey, and splattered with pink and green paint.

“My exams are over,” he told Gabriel. “I had my last one today. That’s why I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going.”

Gabriel laughed.

“Figures. I bet you haven’t slept for a week, either, am I right?”

Sam smiled and laughed.

“Yeah. At least I can have some R&R here. They’re keeping me in, because I was showing signs of shock, apparently.”

Gabriel’s smile was wide and he had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“You think you’ll get any rest with me in the room? You clearly haven’t met me before, honey-bunch.”

Sam snorted.

 

Gabriel was right. Sam got no rest, and he was two steps away from killing the little fucker.

“Scottish. When you go to introduce someone and you can’t because you’ve forgotten their name,” Gabriel said easily.

 “You can’t… how do you fucking _cheat_ at this?” he snarled. “You can’t seriously know all these. What the Hell?”

Ok, so Sam took word games seriously. He’d actually slept fine, and was an hour away from being discharged. Thanks to his scholarship and some help from his uncle, the medical bill wasn’t going to take him 30 years to pay off. Sam was overjoyed, and Gabriel’s knowledge of obscure languages was _still_ pissing him off.

Gabriel winked at him. “The wonders of private high schools, Sammy.”

Yeah fucking right, and Sam had gotten into college without a scholarship. Sam glared at Gabriel.

“Translate jayus,” he ordered.

 

When Sam left the hospital, Gabriel was still holed up in there, and would be for another two days or so. There’d been a complication with setting the bone, the description of which made Sam feel queasy. Sam’s own cast was fine, and he only had to come back for the occasional check-up until his cast would come off. He called goodbye to Gabriel, thankful to be going home to an _actual_ bed.

“Don’t forget to call, baby,” he said loudly to Sam, much to the amusement of nurses around him.

“Bite me, Gabriel,” Sam said back, grinning.

He was halfway out of the door when he heard Gabriel’s “Maybe later, big boy,” and Sam was still laughing when he’d found his way to his own apartment.

 

Sam didn’t call Gabriel, because they’d never swapped phone numbers. However, at a loss of what to do in his holiday from classes, Sam found himself at the hospital the next day. And the next. When Gabriel was allowed to go home, and told Sam he’d be taking the subway home – on crutches, no less – Sam shook his head, and offered to go with him.

“Between our two casts, we’ll be able to beat up anyone who tries anything,” he said lightly.

Gabriel snorted, trying to balance on one leg while Sam handed the crutches over.

“Yeah, because having a ten foot tall bodyguard isn’t going to keep people away,” he said.

“Oh fuck off,” Sam said, tapping the back of Gabriel’s head with his cast. “Don’t be rude.”

“Don’t be rude,” Gabriel parroted snidely, laughing when Sam stuck his tongue out in reply.

Gabriel was adept at using his crutches by the time they’d gotten down several flights of stairs. Finding a comfortable way to sit them while sitting on the subway was another thing entirely, and he hit Sam in the face at least four times. Sam had been trying to figure out why he recognized the redhead at the other end of the carriage when Gabriel nearly took his eye out.

It was in the middle of Sam bickering at Gabriel-“You need to stop waving those things around you idiot,”- when a lady spoke to them as she walked past them to the doors.

“Bless you both for being so comfortable with your sexuality,” she said kindly.

She was gone before she saw the mutual looks of disgust on their faces. Sam would have been offended at the way Gabriel screwed up his nose dramatically, but his own face had done the same thing. Sure, Sam was hardly straight, but with _Gabriel_?

“No offence, buttercup, but you aren't my type,” Gabriel said decisively.

“Exactly,” Sam replied.

 

The hot chocolate was warm in Sam’s left hand. Even his right hand was curled around the mug as much as it was able to, despite the cast restricting his movement. Gabriel sat across from him, ignoring his own mug in order to gesture as he talked to Sam. His cast, originally white but now brightly painted in garish, fluorescent versions of famous paintings, was propped up between Sam and the rest of the coffee store. Occasionally, Gabriel would thump Sam’s thigh with his foot if Sam made a particularly bad pun.

“I still want to finish your cast before the end of the week,” Gabriel said grumpily. “Why is that stupid dinner so important that you can’t wear bright colors?”

Sam sighed indulgently, reaching out to catch Gabriel’s hand. If he let Gabriel keep gesticulating wildly as he talked, he’d hit himself in the face. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“It’s not the bright colors,” he said. “It’s that you can’t promise me with a straight face that you won’t draw a gigantic dick on my forearm. That’s hardly going to scream professional at an interview, Gabriel.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes back out into his head, and let out an exaggerated sigh. He thumped his fist onto the table, making the table shake and the waitress walking past the table flinch.

“We don’t all have fantastic control of our impulses, Sam,” he complained. “I, for one, will not be stopped from drawing a dick on your cast, and painting it with all the colors of the wind.”

Sam fought to maintain his straight face as he reached over, and patted Gabriel’s hand till it relaxed flat against the table. His lips still twitched, hard as he tried to keep his mouth under control.

“It’s ok, marshmallow,” he said soothingly. “Just let me be professional for one day, and you can draw all the hyper-realistic, colorful dicks you want.”

Gabriel’s face contorted. He must have set the record for the number of different faces made in less than ten seconds. Finally it settled on astounded amusement. He stared at Sam for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. Sam’s own smile was too wide to be held back. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Gabriel. Gabriel’s head rested against the red seat, the color bringing out highlights in Gabriel’s hair that Sam had never noticed. Gabriel’s neck was bared and his cheeks painted red with the force of his laughter. Sam had never seen anything more beautiful. Neither of them moved from where Sam’s hand still rested on Gabriel’s.

When Gabriel finally quietened, he lifted his hot chocolate to his lips. One glance at Sam’s face over the rim of the cup, and he started giggling again.

“Stop making that face,” he said.

“What face?” Sam asked, wide grin still in place.

The red on Gabriel’s cheeks seemed to darken, if that was even possible.

“Like you’re about to confess your undying love to me,” he said. “Love-struck isn’t pretty on you, sugarplum.” 

“That’s not what you said last night,” Sam said.

That was actually true. Then again, Gabriel hadn't actually said much beyond 'please,' 'oh fuck,' and 'you look so fucking good with your mouth wrapped around my cock.' Gabriel laughed, but when he looked up at Sam, he smiled fondly.

“It doesn’t count if you have my dick in your mouth,” he grumbled.

“Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting- uh…” the voice died off when Gabriel spoke.

Sam’s laugh practically exploded from him, eyes crinkling shut, smile wide. Gabriel took one look at the bemused redhead beside him, and dropped his shaking head to the table.

“Not at all,” he mumbled into the table top.

 

“Hi, I’m Charlie, and I’m the one who accidentally sent you both to hospital,” was one the most unexpected sentences Sam had ever heard.

“What?” he said.

“Oh!” Gabriel said, having caught up quicker than Sam. “You’re the one who called the ambulance, aren’t you? And you’re part time at the library? I've seen you there before.”

She nodded, smiling at them both, a little sheepishly.

“Yeah. I didn't mean that I actually sent you to hospital or anything. I mean, I just wanted to take a picture of the leaf pile for my Photoshop project. You kind of interrupted the shot. I wasn’t really aiming for broken limbs, you know.”

Sam’s eyes widened. Ah. She was the one with the rake and camera. He hadn’t realized that she’d been the one to call 911 as well. Or maybe he had, but he'd just forgotten after being pulled into the whirlwind that was Gabriel.

“However, being an opportunist, I took photos anyway,” Charlie plowed on, as if she needed to get it over with. “And now I need to ask your permission to use the photos I’ve taken for an exhibit in Heaven’s Gallery.”

Sam blinked up at her.

“Let me get this straight,” Gabriel said. “You want to use photos of us, that you took when we ran into each other, for a gallery?”

Sam thought Charlie looked almost secretive as she said “Yeah, that just about sums it up. You guys will even get an invitation to the opening of the exhibit. It’s just an exhibition showcasing the talent at nearby colleges.”

“Oh, my paintings will be in that,” Gabriel said absentmindedly. He glanced at Sam, and smiled wickedly. “I’m fine with it if Sam-bo here is fine with it.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam shrugged. “They can’t be that bad, right?”

“Right,” she said, looking relieved. “Well, I’d show them to you, but I’m late for work. Bye now!”

She said an abrupt goodbye, and was out the door before Sam could even say goodbye. He raised his eyebrows at Gabriel.

“That was quick,” he said.

Gabriel shrugged.

“I bet she’s just getting out of here before she has to show you the photo, and break your heart with how photogenic I am compared to you,” Gabriel said.

Sam kicked Gabriel’s leg gently, making a face and forcing his own confusion aside. She’d just seemed nervous because she was late to work. Sure, that’d be it.

 

“This is not what I expected,” Gabriel said under his breath.

Sam could only make a vague sound of agreement, staring up at the photos with something akin to awe stirring inside.

The first photo, Gabriel and Sam were oblivious to each other, frozen in midair as they leapt towards the pile of leaves.

The second, directly beneath, showed Gabriel’s face twisted in pain as he clutched at his ankle, Sam on the ground beside him. Leaves were scattered around them, one stuck in Gabriel’s hair. Sam stared at his own face and remembered how he’d nearly thrown up, his wrist pressed close to his chest.

In the third photo, the paramedics were loading Gabriel onto a stretcher, Sam watching on.

The fourth, Sam and Gabriel sat side by side on the subway. Sam could almost hear Gabriel’s laughter. Gabriel was the picture of mischief, waving the crutches in Sam’s face while Sam batted them away with his own hand. His own face was the epitome of longsuffering impatience. 

The last photo took Sam’s breath away. The café window was in the background, orange leafed trees just outside. Gabriel’s head was tipped back as he laughed, his cast propped up next to Sam. Sam’s own cast was visible, that hand curled around his hot chocolate, the other holding Gabriel’s hand across the table. Sam’s face was caught permanently in a smile, eyes staring at Gabriel in what could only be described as reverence. They’d known each other less than three weeks. They’d only slept together for the first time the night before.

“I get why she didn’t want us seeing them before now,” he said.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the wall, eyes smiling where his mouth wasn’t. “I’d like to know how she got the one from the subway, though.”

Sam looked at it with a tiny smile. A bright orange ad for sleeping pills provided the same colored backdrop as orange leaves did in all the other photos. The title of the piece, _‘Fall’_ was printed underneath the last picture. The colors, the wordplay, the stunning pictures, they all surprised Sam. Charlie was a genius.

“I remember seeing her,” he said. “I didn’t recognize her, though. Maybe she was just heading somewhere, and thought it was a good opportunity?”

“Huh.”

They stared at the photos together, hand in hand.

“I like them,” Gabriel decided finally. “None of them make me look short.”

Sam snorted, but squeezed Gabriel’s hand in his. Gabriel spoke indifferently, but his eyes were misty as hell. They were both sentimental idiots.

“I like them too,” he said. “Now c’mon, let’s go see how people are reacting to your paintings, yeah?”

Gabriel turned to smile up at him and right then, Sam couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have fallen for.

**Author's Note:**

> Words from the word game scene can be found here: http://matadornetwork.com/abroad/20-awesomely-untranslatable-words-from-around-the-world/


End file.
